


The Night Guard

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [28]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but be there together.Also, remember that time Keith pressed his and Lance's foreheads together? Yeah, me neither. Don't know why I'd bring that up...
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 19
Kudos: 186





	The Night Guard

The drawing room is dark, shadows licking at the old carvings crawling up the red stone walls. The chill of Daibazaani night bleeds through his ancestral home. A winged lizard settles on a windowsill, scurries over to the fire. Lotor doesn’t begrudge the creature, stares into the flames. It’s been almost a movement, yet he still hasn’t spoken to Allura or Romelle about his conference with Lance.

Lance. Poor boy. Clever. Talented. Ambitious. Devoted. His biggest problem is his inexperience. He doesn’t understand quite yet how to politic. He can probably blame the boy’s fathers for that. But Lance can learn. What he lacks in experience he makes up for in earnesty and intelligence.

In the meantime, Lotor held another conference with the prince to discuss when and how to impart information to allies and enemies. Lance had seemed exceptionally grateful for the help, writing furiously on datapad. Who the fuck had been in charge of that boy’s education?

Lotor sighs. What is he to do with the information Lance has fed him? What’s he meant to tell his wife and her lover? Perhaps even more important, how is he meant to protect them? If Altea attacks, they’ll be the first people Zarkon goes after.

His father is just, but unforgiving.

“Are you trying to put out the fire with your mind?” Lotor starts at the sweet voice, looks up to see Allura standing in the doorway. Even now, after over a decaphoeb, she looks out of place amidst carved stone. She looks beautiful. “That’s quite the intense glare, my love.”

Lotor chuckles, holds out a hand. Allura settles herself in his lap, kisses his lips. Her silver curls tumble down her back. Having a loving family is the best thing in his life right now. “How’s our darling Romelle?”

“She’s doing well. I told her about the Frost Ball. I haven’t seen her smile that brightly in a long time.” Allura smiles into the fire, running her eyes over the carvings and paintings along the walls. They’re as old as the Galran government. No, older. Before the Emperor, a Chief began construction on this very room. “Romelle and I met at a Frost Ball.”

“That’s so sweet.” Lotor’s free hand finds her belly. “How have you been feeling today?”

“Well enough, thanks to Shiro and Adam. No longer nauseous.”

“Well that's good. You won’t starve. Very important.” Lotor smiles, heart full of warmth for his first mate. Beneath the warmth is terror. He has something else to protect now.

“I’ve no idea how my fathers will react, but Lance will share our joy. He’ll probably cry, then declare that his kid will be cuter.”

“He wishes.” Lotor laughs, presses their foreheads together, soft and tender. It's the sweetest gesture his people know. Allura cradles his face, brushes her thumbs over his scales.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s bothering you?” Allura asks, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger.

Lotor sighs. He’s not ready, but he should tell her. “Lance found your father’s secret war room.”

Allura groans. “Of course he has one of those. Of-quiznaking-course he does.”

Lotor rubs her still-flat belly. “You didn’t hear that. Don’t you ever speak like that, understand?” He looks up at his mate. “Lance requested asylum for himself, Prince Yorak, and a few associates in the event of war. In return, he says he will ally with us and try to turn the people against his father.”

“Seems a bit premature to tell you that. I assume you coached him?” Lotor nods, humming affirmatively. Allura sighs. “Thank you for that. But he’s right that that’s the best course of action. Our numbers have dwindled, we have fewer children every decaphoeb, and our people are tired.”

“I told him I’d agree to his terms. It worries me. We have rumors and now highly circumstantial evidence that not all is as it appears… It will help protect us, too. Lance is looking further into things on his end. The moment he has something, we will have Adam write up an agreement. Everyone involved will sign it. Contingency plans will be set in motion. If something happens, our families, not including our parents, will band together.”

“So, when you mean our families, you mean Lance, Yorak, and his friends. And then you, me, Romelle, and this baby. Is that right?”

“Shiro, too. And my generals. They have a battalion of merciless killers. We'll need that. From there, we accumulate followers and allies. The Galra don’t want a war either.” Lotor tips his head back against his chair. “My father grows old. When I win the Kral Zera, I think I shall do as my uncle wanted. We will grow. Build wealth and prosperity within the empire. Build better relations with those we have conquered.”

“It won’t be easy. Most people tend not to like being ruled by outsiders.”

“Yes, well. This is as much as I’m willing to deviate at the moment. I'm not exactly adaptable.”

Allura laughs. “Baby steps, I suppose.”

“Don’t even _talk_ about baby steps right now! I am _not_ ready yet!”

Allura keeps laughing, throws her head back, drapes her arms around his shoulders. Lotor’s own smile is soft. In another life, he imagines, the alienation that’s come with his position and philosophies would have torn him apart. Instead, he’s managed to maintain a decent relationship with his parents, he’s got a wonderful wife and lover, is beginning a legacy of his own.

His mind goes to his friend a planet away, carrying the weight of his people as best he can, all on his own. Lotor only hopes the boy is up to the challenge. He’s got the spirit for it, certainly, the drive to do anything in order to survive. But Lance is soft, too. A gentle spirit at his core. It’s an enviable quality, really.

“Allura?” Romelle appears in the doorway. Lotor lets his wife go. The blonde Altean looks distressed, her long, loose hair drifting down around her. Romelle still has her own room, where she is under observation. No doubt someone has already come to fetch her, bring her back.

“Sweetheart, you’re meant to be resting.” Allura takes her hand. “Are you alright?”

The pale Altean stares at her lover, eyes not quite seeing. Lotor lowers his head. There’s only so much they can do for her. Still, he rises, places a gentle hand on the frail woman’s back to keep her steady. They can do this much, at least.

He’s not sure whom they’re helping: Romelle or themselves.

“The white beast lies in waiting,” Romelle whispers, eyes vacant. “He waits for those that came long before. He waits for the successors. The guardian demands new tribute for the life at his feet-”

“We know, darling. We know he does. But he can wait a little longer. Come now. Back to bed.” Allura pulls Romelle in close, turns to her husband. “Go rest. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Lotor nods, watches them leave. _We know, darling._

They don’t know a damned thing. Whatever Romelle saw when she accompanied Alfor and Honerva on that mission shattered her mind. Despite everything they've tried, every endeavor to help her has been met with minimal success.

 _The white beast lies in waiting._ As much as he hates it, all he can think of is a white-haired man in white armor.

Except that makes no sense, because Alfor doesn’t guard fuck all except his own children -conditionally- and his spouse and apparently a hidden war room.

The fact of the matter is, it’s likely that none of it means anything at all. It’s more than likely just a fever dream made up by a fractured mind to keep itself alive.

If only they could find a way to piece that mind back together.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Time on Love After the Fact: Lance is not creepy. Really. He swears.


End file.
